


to a better place

by loserrobin



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: A LOT of Angst, Angst, F/M, Threat of Execution, Threats of Violence, mention of violence, not as much fluff as i had originally intended oops
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:53:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26759764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loserrobin/pseuds/loserrobin
Summary: Concept : Theon and Jeyne are about to be separated for what may be forever. They talk, they cry and they confess.Setting : Canon verse (primary bookverse setting).Warning : Mention of violence, threat of execution, a lot of angst, not as much fluff as was intended oops.Word Count : 1738.
Relationships: Theon Greyjoy/Jeyne Poole
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	to a better place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Philosopherscribe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Philosopherscribe/gifts).



> This was a request for Vedicanarchist on ao3. I'm sorry it's not as fluffy as the requester wanted, but I was working more with the books canon based on the setting of the request. I would like to continue this in a second part in the future where Theon and Jeyne make it to Braavos.
> 
> This is specifically taking place during Theon's chapter in the Winds of Winter where Stannis holds Theon & Asha hostage at Crofter's Village just before sending Jeyne (claiming to be Arya Stark) to the Wall to Jon.
> 
>  **Request :** Love confessions. Theon and Jeyne have been pining for each other for a while. How do they confess their love? I'd prefer this to take place in the canon timeline in Braavos but any spin on the prompt is welcome. Any combination of the book and show canon is also fine.

Crofter’s village is demure and cold, its people quiet and compliant. Stannis doesn’t have to ask, doesn’t have to demand, and the Watchtower becomes Theon’s new home, his new prison. He is there and he isn’t, body and mind fighting to stay within blurred moment to blurred moment. All he can focus on is the cold, and the pain, and the fear that’s been permanently plastered to the lining of his stomach.

Asha fights to remain by his side, but Stannis is either cruel or apathetic to the distress their separation can cause. Jeyne begs to stay with him, to see him, to have just a moment. Her tears bring him a different kind of pain, a throbbing in his chest that steals his breath.

“He’s sending me to the wall,” she cries into his chest where she’s thrown herself in their limited time of peace together. “I don’t want to go, I’m afraid.”

Theon has heard about the wall : the biting wind, the tales of beasts and monsters that roam beyond the glacial barricade, and the dubious origin of the men of the Night’s Watch. But Jon is there, Jon who believes his dear sister is alive and if Jeyne has a chance to find safety then Arya Stark is what she must pretend to be.

“You will go,” Theon presses, but the command isn’t his, it is the Baratheon who thinks himself a King. “Jon will protect you, the truth be damned. He’s a kinder man than most.”

_Kinder than me_. He doesn’t have to add. _Kinder than the would-be King_.

The frightened girl curls her fingers into his tattered cloak, sobs growing into wails, the sound of dying hope. “I don’t want to go without you,” insistent and firm.

Theon has no pretty words of flowery reassurance, he barely has a beating heart or enough teeth to chew his food. He’s a broken, beaten, wretched creature, too weak to save an equally broken and beaten prey. The current Storm King intends to execute him, to give him as an offering to his insignificant god in hopes of divine intervention against the Boltons.

Theon hopes he wins, but more than anything he hopes Jeyne is sent away before more disaster can be thrown at them. The Bolton bastard had made it clear : he wanted Jeyne and Theon both to be returned back to his wrathful, wicked hands, a fate worse than death.

If he is to die tomorrow, he wishes to die knowing he did one thing right.

-

A hand pets a pale cheek, fingers stiffened by the cold, chilled skin on chilled skin. Asha gazes at her brother as if he is a puzzle she wants to solve, searching his eyes for the missing pieces she cannot find to put him back together.

“I’ve asked him to reconsider.”

Damn these foolish Kings and their gods, and their persistence for screaming deaths by fire. Theon wanted to die as a man, as himself by sword, the most merciful act after being stripped of his identity and name. Crofter’s village had a weirwood heart tree located on one of the many small-wooded islands scattered among the two lakes in which the village rested. The ancient tree could serve as his witness, a small comfort and homage to his time in Winterfell as a growing boy who had little control of his fate since he was taken from the Iron Islands.

No, Stannis saw it fit to execute a traitor as a sacrifice to appeal to the northerner allies he had managed to grasp in his favor. However, they are stuck in Crofter’s village with limited food and starving men : Stannis has lost a squire to the cold and hunger, and burns four soldiers from House Peasebury as punishment for eating remains from the dead. It is becoming a disastrous affair, but Theon’s execution brings new light to the King’s eyes as he stares into the face of his next source of firewood for his pyre.

Theon has no will to interject or plead his case. He is a turncloak, a shameful product of poor decisions and even poorer judgements of character. Jeyne had wept for him when she heard, crushed by the realization that she would be alone in her journey to the North, and that she would never set her eyes on his figure again.

Asha hides the devastation that plagues her well, but in the few quiet moments they are spared, she let’s it show plain on her face the anger, and sorrow, and guilt.

“You cannot save me,” resigned, a pitiful tone.

“I cannot sit back and watch you die like this.” There isn’t anything more they can do, but she tried.

And he will always remember that she did.

-

Jeyne visits him in the morning with more tears in her eyes, snatching up his mutilated hands into her own. She doesn’t squeeze or lock their fingers together, just holds.

She looks at him beseechingly. “I love you,” spoken like a secret, daring and bold,” run away with me. Everyone is too weak with hunger to stop us. If we slip by and travel across the frozen lake -”

“No,” Theon stops her, swallows the yearning he has for freedom, and mutual understanding, and her. “We would never make it. You must go, go North to the Wall.”

“Not without you,” and her lip wobbles in that way he’s grown fond of during their time together. “I cannot live without you now.”

“You must. You will starve here or worse.”

“I’ll ask him to spare you - I’ll say that I won’t go without you.”

“Je -” He stops himself before he speaks her name, before he breaks the illusion. “Stop, please… if you stay here the lakes will become your tomb or you will be handed back to him.”

She shivers at the implication, no doubt as fearful of the possibility as him.

He gulps, confession on the tip of his tongue, but he isn’t cruel enough to speak it. He may love her with his battered heart yet he cannot protect her further from this point.

“I want you to be safe,” he settles on,” it’s all I want.”

-

The would-be King never smiles. Theon used to, an ever-present fixture to his lips that hadn’t cracked until he was throwing everything he knew away.

Stannis regards him in disgust, vitriol dripping from his next words.

“You will go to the Wall. Your fate is in the hands of the Lord Commander now.”

He blinks, stunned. A miracle has been thrown at his feet.

He will live another day.

-

Jeyne clutches his arm in her bony hands, weathered by cold and clenching pain, terrified of the company around her. To their surprise, Asha is accompanying them, the would-be King’s hostage given away for safer keeping. Ser Justin Massey leads the charge towards the Wall, accompanied by the Braavos banker and a handful of other men.

Ser Justin keeps them close, Asha even closer. His sister believes he aims to keep her for himself and a chance at the Seastone Chair. Theon heard he had also protected her from Ser Clayton Suggs who had been hellbent on sacrificing someone to his fire god (namely Theon, someone with ‘king’s blood’).

They have horses and a wagon, and meek supplies for their journey. Winter is biting, the wind like whips against their skin, daring them to move forward. Jeyne stays clutched to his side, face half buried in his shoulder as they ride in the wagon, trying to hide from the worst of it. Theon doesn’t mind, if he’s good for anything now it’ll be as a shield.

“Up ahead - what is it?”

“Seven hells!”

There’s the frightened neighing of the horses and then a man falls, covered by snow, but the arrow in his chest is a dark black contrast. There is screaming, orders from Ser Massey and fear from Jeyne right by his ear.

Then a hand grabs his other arm, pulling him up, helping him out of the cart. It’s Asha, but he can’t hear what she’s saying over the yelling and the sound of swords clanging together in a flurry of metal against metal. She’s pulling and he’s pulling Jeyne with him, running into a random direction away from the chaos.

“This way!” Asha pushes, boots crunching the snow.

Where is there to go? Then someone else joins them - the Braavos banker and Ser Justin behind him. Theon doesn’t question, just runs and runs.

-

“We need to go to Braavos,” Tycho Nestoris insists. “The Iron Bank is your best bet after that disaster.”

“I have a duty to my king.”

“Ser, your king may very well be dead now. The Wall will be no safer. You made another promise to him”

Ser Justin runs a hand through his hair, stress shaping his mouth into a frown. “The sellswords will come to the Wall then? Princess Shireen…”

The little girl made would-be heir, Theon had heard of her. That she was cursed by greyscale, the only survivor of four children, a sad and small girl caught in the whirlwind that was war and power struggle.

“What do you think?” Jeyne whispers to him.

They’re holding hands, bundled together, inseparable as they find shelter in a cave. The wind cannot reach them here, but the cold seeps into the rocky floor of the cave, a tiny fire the only light they have to keep warm by.

“The Wall has Jon.”

“And what if he wants to kill you?”

Theon has no doubt he will. He is a turncloak and a murderer in the eyes of all who adored House Stark. Bastard or not, Jon will seek revenge just as Robb had intended.

“Then I will die, and you will be safe.”

“To Braavos then,” she urges, voice growing a little too loud for a whisper. “You will be safer there. No one will know us.”

It’s a comforting thought, a plan that could very well keep him alive, but for how long?

He looks at Jeyne with her imploring brown eyes, her hair ruffled and desperation plain on her face. What would life be if they could just run and never look back?

“I’ll go anywhere with you,” is as much of a confession as he will allow.

And despite the doom that nips at their heels with every step, Jeyne smiles as bright as the sun.

**Author's Note:**

> If you read this far, thanks for reading! If you liked this and are interested in my other works, check out my profile and other fics. If you want to talk or ask questions, find me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/teslawrites) or [tumblr](https://loserrobin.tumblr.com/).


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